A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. He was, however, instantly beaten back; and the fury of the mob was so great that it was with difficulty he could effect a retreat. Knowing the South Seas from hearsay and by travel, he knew something of that inertia which blunted the fineness, innate and acquired, of white men and women, the eternal warfare against indifference and slovenliness.
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